This is not autobiographical, mostly. I wrote this to see if I could write a story with no dialog and have it be good. It's a story, it has no dialog but I leave it to you to tell me if it is good or not.

Maid Joy

It felt like hearing nails on a chalkboard all the time. There was something fundamentally wrong with the whole world and I didn’t know how to fix it.

Tragedy Of The Spirit- The Letter  © 2008 prairie_girl_64

I felt under a state of siege, and began to batten down the hatches, well pull the curtains at any rate. The only problem being that it means they can’t see in but neither can you see out, and therefore, what they are up to.

The phone rang and Tom answered it. “Certainly not, goodbye.” He put the phone down and turned puce. “The impudence of it, would we like to come out and talk to them?”

I stepped out of the ruin left by the thing's death, letting my aura and sword dissipate as I did.

“Agent Ripley, did you ever pick your feet in Poughkeepsie?” an occupant of Firecracker Four called out over a loud speaker. “Agent Ripley......”

Chuck then took a moment to speak again. “Who is Agent Ripley, and what’s this Poughkeepsie shit?”

Synopsis- The Swan Song committee tries to reel in Agent Ripley with a plan called Operation Firecracker.

Just a little exercise, to see who all is in the neighborhood.

With his nation caught before the rapacious empire of Goscaire, Anders Welsodon, the Hermit Lord of Validurm, is forced to decide if he can commit the ultimate sacrifice to spare his people from the worst of conquest.